
Class 
Book- 

By bequest 

William Lukens Shoemaker 



By the same Author. 



THE BETROTHAL. 

Being the first part of The Espousals. 
In one volume, uniform with this : 75 cents. 



THE 



ANGEL IN THE HOUSE 



THE ESPOUSALS 

: 



Par la grace infinie, Dieu les mist au monde ensemble. 

Rousier des Dames. 



BOSTON: 
TICK NOR AND FIELDS. 

M.DCCC.LVI. 



7R5>^ 



AV k 



RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : 

Stereotyped and Printed by 
H. O. Houghton & Co. 



Gitt 
W. L. Shoemaker 

7 S '06 



author's edition. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Prologue 1 1 

I. Beulah 19 

The Accompaniments. 

1. The Song of Songs 21 

2. Orpheus 23 

3. The Sentences 25 

Idyl I. Beulah 27 

II. Aunt Maude 33 

The Accompaniments. 

1 . The Capture 35 

2. The Sentences 41 

Idyl II. Aunt Maude 43 

III. The County Ball 51 

The Accompaniments. 

1. Love and Honour 53 

2. Love Ceremonious 55 

3. The Sentences 57 

Idyl III. The County Ball 59 



*fc 



79 

The Accompaniments. 



viii Contents. 

Page 

IV. The Queen's Room 6 - 

The Accompaniments. 

i. Accepted g- 

2 Rejected 6 9 

3. The Sentences - 1 

Idyl IV. The Queen's Room 73 

V. The Love-Letters 
he Accompanimen 

1. The Paradox g x 

2. The Sentences g ? 

Idyl V. The Love-Letters 8 7 

VI. The Revulsion 95 

The Accompaniments. 

1. The Pearl g7 

2 - Rachel 99 

3. The Sentences IOI 

Idyl VI. The Revulsion I03 

VII. Tete-a-Tete I09 

The Accompaniments. 

1 . The Mistress m 

2. The Sentences 1 1^ 

Idyl VII. Tete-a-Tete n 7 

VIII. The Friends 123 

The Accompaniments. 

1 . Beauty 125 



Contents. ix 



Page 

2. Wisdom 126 

3- Joy 130 

4. The Sentences 131 

Idyl VIII. The Friends 133 

IX. The Regatta 139 

The Accompaniments. 

1. " Platonic Love " 141 

2. Night Thoughts 143 

3. The Sentences 145 

Idyl IX. The Regatta 147 

X. The Eve of the Wedding -. . 153 

The Accompaniments. 

1. The Meditation 155 

2. The Sentences 159 

Idyl X. The Eve of the Wedding 161 

XI. The Departure 167 

The Accompaniments. 

1. Womanhood 169 

2. The Symbol 171 

3. The Sentences 173 

Idyl XI. The Departure 175 

XII. By the Sea «•• 181 

The Accompaniments. 

1. A Demonstration 183 



Contents. 



Page 

2. The Amaranth i8j 

3. Valedictory 187 

4. The Sentences 189 

Idyl XII. By the Sea i 9 i 

The Epilogue 1 97 



PROLOGUE. 



THE PROLOGUE. 

T TER sons pursue the butterflies, 

Her baby daughter mocks the doves 
With throbbing coo : in his fond eyes 

She's Venus with her little Loves; 
Her step's an honour to the earth, 

Her form's the native-land of grace, 
And, lo, his coming lights with mirth 

Beauty's metropolis, her face ! 
Of such a lady proud's the lord ; 

And that her happy bosom knows : 
She takes his arm without a word, 

In lanes of laurel and of rose. 



14 The Prologue. 

Ten years to-day has she been his ; 

He but begins to understand, 
He says, the dignity and bliss 

She gave him when she gave her hand : 
And she replies, He disenchants 

The Past ! and, flatter'd, answers he, 
For him the Present nothing wants 

But briefness to be ecstasy! 
He lauds her grace; Its fullest glow 

The years, which dim all else, defer: 
She laughs and says, 'Twere always so 

Were all wives loved as he loves her. 
Therewith her soft arm presses his 

Against her fond, maternal breast : 
He answers, Each new honour is 

The sum, my Sweet, of all the rest ! 
And whilst the Wood-dove, mocking, coo'd, 

They praised the days that they'd been 
wed, 
At cost of those in which they woo'd, 



The Prologue. 15 

Till every thing was three times said ; 
And words were growing vain, when Briggs, 

Factotum, Butler, Footman, Groom, 
Who help'd the gardener, fed the pigs, 

Preserv'd the game, and drove the 
brougham, 
Brought in the wish'd-for post-bag, fill'd, 

Like Fame's puff'd cheek, with Vaughan's 
success. 
A letter from the Laureate thrill'd 

Her voice that read it; but the Press, 
Daily and weekly, death-notes toll'd: 

Some call'd him harsh, but full of fire, 
Some call'd him musical, but cold; 

And earn'd his wife's contempt and ire. 
He laugh'd; but, seeing his Poem named 

With Holofernes Brobdignag, 
And nine new Miltons more, exclaim'd, 

With patience that began to flag, 
" I, servant to the Truth in times 



16 The Prologue. 

" When gaudy words are more than wit, 
"And diligent in all my rhymes 

"The truth with truest phrase to fit, 
"Am unsolicitous to earn 

" Mock laurels, and amaze with show 
" The vulgar, who will nothing learn 

" But that which they already know. 
" Yet Love, requiring language high 

" Beyond our tongue's extremest reach, 
"May class me, to the careless eye, 

"With modern mountebanks of speech: 
"But we'll our hearts in patience keep, 

" Till this indignity be past, 
"Sure that the worthless oyster-heap 

"Shall waste, and show the pearls at 
last." 
With boasting calm'd, his " Second Book," 

For this tenth festival kept close, 
He thus commenced, while o'er them shook 

The laurel married with the rose. 



The Prologue. 17 

2. 

"The pulse of War, whose bloody heats 
" Sane purposes insanely work, 

"Now with fraternal frenzy beats, 

"And binds the Christian to the Turk, 

"And shrieking fifes" — 

3- 

But, with a roar, 

In rush'd the Loves ; the tallest roll'd 
A hedgehog from his pinafore, 

Which saved his fingers : Baby, bold, 
Touch'd it, and stared, and scream'd for life, 

And stretch'd her hand for Vaughan to 
kiss, 
Who hugg'd his Pet, and ask'd his Wife, 

"Is this for love, or love for this ? " 
But she turn'd pale, for now the beast 

Found stock-still in the rabbit-trap, 
And feigning so to be deceased, 
2 



18 The Prologue. 

And laid by Walter in her lap, 
Unglobed himself, and show'd his snout, 

And fell, scatt'ring the Loves amain, 
With shriek, with laughter, and with shout ; 

And peace at last restored again, 
The Bard, who this untimely hitch 

Bore with a calm magnanimous, 
(The hedgehog kick'd into a ditch, 

And Venus sooth'd,) proceeded thus: 



I. 

BEULAH. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 
I. 

"The Song of Songs. 

Or\HE pulse of War, whose bloody heats 

Sane purposes insanely work, 
Now with fraternal frenzy beats, 

And binds the Christian to the Turk, 
And shrieking fifes and braggart flags, 

Through quiet England, teach our breath 
The courage corporate that drags 

The coward to heroic death. 
Too late for song ! Who henceforth sings, 

Must fledge his heavenly flight with more 



22 The Accompaniments. 

Song-worthy and heroic things 

Than hasty, home-destroying War. 
While might and right are not agreed, 

And battle thus is yet to wage, 
So long let laurels be the meed 

Of soldier as of poet sage : 
But men await the Tale of Love, 

And weary of the Tale of Troy; 
Lift me, O Muse, myself above, 

To win the honour and the joy ! 



The Accompaniments. 23 



II. 

Orpheus. 

'nrVHE music of the Sirens found 

Ulysses weak, though cords were 
strong ; 
But happier Orpheus stood unbound, 

And shamed it with a sweeter song. 
His mode be mine. Of Heav'n I ask, 

May I, with heart-persuading might, 
Pursue the Poet's sacred task 

Of superseding faith by sight, 
Till ev'n the witless Gadarene, 

Preferring Christ to swine, shall know 
That life is sweetest when it's clean: 

To prouder folly let me show 



24 The Accompaniments. 

Earth by divine light made divine; 

And let the saints, who hear my word, 
Say, " Lo, the clouds begin to shine 

" About the coming of the Lord ! " 



The Accompaniments, 25 



III. 

The Sentences. 

1. 
OPIRIT of knowledge grant me this, 

A simple heart and subtle wit, 
To praise the thing whose praise it is 
That all which can be praised is it 

2. 
What seems to us for us is true. 

The planets have no proper light; 
And yet, to subtlest mortal view, 

The primal stars are not so bright 



2 6 The Accompaniments. 

3- 

If one slight column counterweighs 
The ocean, 'tis the Maker's law, 

Who deems obedience better praise 
Than sacrifice of erring awe. 



IDYL I. 



BEULAH. 



1. 

T T rHAT fortune did my heart foretell ? 
What shook my spirit, as I woke, 
Like the vibration of a bell 

Of which I had not heard the stroke"? 
Was it some happy vision shut 

From memory by the sun's fresh ray '? 
Was it that linnet's song ; or but 

A natural gratitude for day? 
Or the mere joy the senses weave, 

A wayward ecstasy of life ? 



28 Beulah. 

Then I remember'd, yester-eve 
I won Honoria for my wife. 

2. 

Forth riding, while as yet the day- 
Was dewy, watching Sarum Spire, 

Still beckoning me along my way, 
And growing every minute higher, 

I reach'd the Dean's. Her blind was down, 
Though nine then struck. My bride 
to be ! 

And had she rested ill, my own, 

With thinking, (oh my heart!) of me? 

I paced the streets; two pistols chose, 
To guard my now important life 

When riding late from Sarum Close; 
At noon return'd. Good Mrs. Fife, 

To my, " The Dean, is he at home *? " 
Said, "No, Sir; but Miss Honor is;" 

And straight, not asking if I'd come, 



Beulah. 29 

Announced me, " Mr. Felix, Miss," 
To Mildred, in the Study. There 

We talk'd, she working. We agreed 
The day was fine; the Fancy-Fair 

Successful; "Did I ever read 
"De Genlis?" "No." "I must. She had 
heard 
" I was engaged." " To whom ? " " Miss 
Fry. 
" Was it the fact ? " " No ! " " On my 
word ? " 
"What scandal people talk'd!" "Would I 
"Hold out this skein of silk." So pass'd 

I know not how much time away. 
" How were her sisters ? " " Well." At 
last 
I summon'd heart enough to say, 
" I hoped to have seen Miss Churchill too." 
"Miss— who?" laugh'd Mildred; "What 
is this? 



3° Beulah. 

" I said, and so indeed it's true 

" Last night you quarrell'd ? Here she 
is!" 

3- 

She enter'd, like a morning rose 

Ruffled with rain, and made me blush: 
Her crown once more was on her brows; 

And, with a faint, indignant flush, 
And fainter smile, she gave her hand, 

But not her eyes, then sate apart, 
As if she'd have me understand 

The honour of her vanquish'd heart: 
But I drew humbly to her side ; 

And she, well pleased, perceiving me 
Abash'd again before the pride 

Of her unconquer'd majesty, 
Once and for all put it away: 

The faint flush pass'd; and, thereupon. 
Her loveliness, which rather lay 

In light than colour, smiled and shone, 



Beulah. 31 

Till sick was all my soul with bliss : 
Or was it with remorse and ire 

That grace so worshipful as this 

Should not have set its heaven higher? 



II. 

AUNT MAUDE. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

Tte Capture. 

TTTATCH how a bird, that captived 
sings, 

The cage set open, first looks out, 
Yet fears the freedom of his wings, 

And now withdraws, and flits about, 
And now looks forth again ; until, 

Grown bold, he perches here and there, 
And now attains the window-sill, 

And now confides himself to air. 
The maiden so, from love's free sky 

In chaste and prudent counsels caged, 



36 The Accompaniments. 

But longing to be loosen'd by 

Her suitor's faith declared and gaged, 
When blest with that release desired, 

First doubts if truly she is free, 
Then pauses, restlessly retired, 

Alarm'd at too much liberty : 
But soon, remembering all her debt 

To plighted passion, gets by rote 
Her duty ; says, " I love him ! " yet 

The thought half chokes her in her throat; 
And, like that fatal " I am thine," 

Comes with alternate gush and check 
And joltings of the heart, as wine 

Pour'd from a flask of narrow neck. 
Is he indeed her choice "? She fears 

Her Yea was rashly said, and shame, 
Remorse, and ineffectual tears 

Revolt from his conceded claim. 
Oh, treason ! So, with desperate nerve, 

She cries, " I am in love, am his ! " 



The Accompaniments. 37 

Lets run the cables of reserve, 

And floats into a sea of bliss, 
And laughs to think of her alarm, 

Avows she was in love before, 
Though his avowal was the charm 

Which open'd to her own the door. 
She loves him for his mastering air, 

Whence, Parthian-like, she slaying flies; 
His flattering look, which seems to wear 

Her loveliness in manly eyes; 
His smile, which, by reverse, portends 

An awful wrath, should reason stir, 
(How fortunate it is they're friends. 

And he will ne'er be wroth with her !) 
His power to do or guard from harm; 

(If he but chose to use it half, 
And catch her up in one strong arm, 

What could she do but weep, or laugh!) 
His talk, which still instructs, but so 

That this applause seems still implied, 



38 The Accompaniments. 

" How wise in all she ought to know ! 

" How ignorant of all beside ! " 
His skilful suit, which leaves her free, 

Gives nothing for the world to name, 
And keeps her conscience safe, while he, 

With half the bliss, takes all the blame; 
His clear repute with great and small; 

The jealousy his choice will stir ; 
But, ten times more than ten times all, 

She loves him for his love of her. 
How happy 'tis that he can see 

In her that total loveliness 
Which she, for his sake, longs to be ! 

At times, she cannot but confess 
Her other friends are somewhat blind: 

Her parents' years excuse neglect; 
But all the rest are scarcely kind; 

And brothers grossly want respect. 
And oft she views what he admires 

Within her glass; and sight of this 



The Accompaniments. 39 

Makes all the sum of her desires 

To be devotion unto his. 
But still, at first, whatever's done, 

A touch, her arm press'd lightly, she 
Stands dizzied, shock'd, and rlush'd, like one 

Set sudden neck-deep in the sea; 
And, though her bond for endless time 

To his good pleasure gives her o'er, 
The slightest favour seems a crime, 

Because it makes her love him more. 
But that she'll never let him know; 

For what were love should reverence 
cease ? 
A thought which makes her reason so 

Inscrutable, it seems caprice. 
With her, as with a desperate town, 

Too weak to stand, too proud to treat, 
The conqueror, though the walls are down, 

Has still to capture street by street : 
But, after that, habitual faith, 



40 The Accompaniments. 

Divorced from self, where late 'twas due, 
Walks nobly in its novel path, 

And she's to changed allegiance true ; 
And, prizing what she can't prevent, 

(Right wisdom, often misdeem'd whim,) 
Her will's indomitably bent 

On mere submission unto him; 
To him she'll cleave, for him forsake 

Father and mother's fond command : 
He is her lord, for he can take 

Hold of her faint heart with his hand. 



The Accompaniments. 41 



II. 

The Sentences. 

1. 

1 ^V7*OU speak," cries Love, " where veils 
are due ! " 

I answer, "Fear no harm from this: 
" Women will vow I say not true, 

"And men believe the lips they kiss." 

2. 
At home the chaste maid's fancy lies ; 

And thus may such a maid be known, 
The beauty in her lover's eyes 

Is admiration of her own. 



4 2 The Accompaniments, 

3- 

"I'll hunt for dangers North and South, 
" To prove my love, which sloth maligns!" 

What seems to say her rosy mouth ? 
" I'm not convinced by proofs but signs ! " 



IDYL II. 

AUNT MAUDE. 

1. 
/^\H beating heart of sweet alarm, 

Which stays the Lover's step, when 
near 
His Mistress, and her awful charm 
Of grace and innocence sincere ! 
I held the open door, and heard 

The voice of my betrothed Wife, 
Who sang my verses, every word 
By music taught its latent life ; 
With interludes of well-touch'd notes, 
That flash'd, surprising and serene, 



44 Aunt Maude. 

As meteor after meteor floats 

The mid-November stars between. 
There was a passion in her tone, 

A tremor when she touch'd the keys, 
Which told me she was there alone, 

And uttering all her heart at ease. 
I enter'd ; for I did not choose 

To kiss her hand, without the glove, 
By chance or stealth: beyond their use, 

Her large eyes flatter'd me with love. 

2. 

" I wish you had not come to-day ! 

" Would, Felix, we were safely wed ! 
" Aunt Maude is here. I cannot say 

" The cruel things that she has said ! " 
" Aunt Maude, who used to box my ears 

" My old foe ? she shall be my friend, 
" Dearest, if you will dry your tears, 

" Before this very evening's end." 



Aunt Maude. 45 

With true love's treacherous confidence, 
And ire, at last to laughter won, 

She told her words, and mark'd their sense, 
By action, as her Aunt had done. 

3- 

" ; You, with your looks and handsome air, 

"'To think of Vaughan ! You fool ! 
You know, 
" ' You might, with ordinary care, 

" ' Ev'n yet, be Lady Harrico. 
" ' You're sure he'll do great things some day ! 

" 'Nonsense, he wont; he's dress'd too well: 
" 6 Dines with the Sterling Club, they say ; 

" ' Not commonly respectable ! 
" 4 Half Puritan, half Cavalier ! 

" ' His curly hair I think's a wig ; 
" ' And, for his fortune, why, my Dear, 

" ' It's not enough to keep a gig. 
" ' Old Roger Vaughan will never die ; 



46 Aunt Maude. 

" ■ And what you bring wont do for dress ; 
" ' And so you'll live on " Bye-and-bye," 
" ' And oaten-cake and water-cress ! ' 

4- 
" I wonder'd that she did not see 

" How much she help'd you by dispraise, 
" But only said you had bought for me 

" A carriage and a pair of bays : 
" She laugh'd : I cried, and left the room. 

" Papa thinks, Felix, we might sell 
" Those horses ; one would draw the 
brougham, — 

" But here she comes : receive her well." 

5- 
Her Aunt came in; and, with a frown, 

" Oh, you're here, Mr. What's-your- 

name." 
" Vaughan, Madam ; " and I took her down 



Aunt Maude. 47 

To dinner; talk'd; opined the same, 
Or made the difference smooth. We 
thought 

The Pritchard quarrel vilely patch'd. 
She knew the Government was bought; 

And call'd Thiers a knave unmatch'd. 
I loathed the "Revolution Bill," 

No Pitts or Burkes had been since 
then ! 
Ah, rising now was work up-hill ; 

Our's were hard times for gentlemen ! 
She sainted Philpotts; scorn'd the Whigs; 

I almost wish'd the Bourbons back, 
And spurn'd young Englanders for prigs : 

Then she, with unexpected tack, 
" My niece has told you every word 

" I said of you ! What may I mean ? 
" Of course she has : but you've not heard 

" How I abused vou to the Dean ; — 
"Yes, I'll take wine; — he's mad, like her; 



48 Aunt Maude. 

" And she will have you : there it ends ! 
"And, now I've done my duty, Sir, 

" And you've shown common-sense, we're 
friends ! " 

6. 
" I love you best when you're yourself; " 

Said Honor, whom the Dean bade show 
The place, upon an upper shelf, 

Where Tasso stood, lent long ago. 
I'd be whatever she loved best ! 

And sought forgiveness, not in vain. 
" You've spoilt my rose ! " and, from her 
breast, 
She gave my present back again. 
" Oh, Sweet, how hard it is to part ! 

"You're mine, and how unjust it seems." 
" Ah, yes, these ' Good-nights ' break my 
heart ! 
" You must go now, Love ! " " Happy 
dreams ! " 



Aunt Maude. 49 

"You'll come to-morrow?" "Yes, Sweetest." 
"How 
" Fragrant the air is ! What a sky ! 
" Stop ; where's your Tasso ? Leave it now ! 
" I'm coming, Aunt ! — Good-bye ! " 
" Good-bye ! " 

4 



III. 

THE COUNTY BALL. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 



Love and Honour. 

\\ THAT man with baseness so content, 
Or sick with wrong conceit of 
right, 
As not to know that the element 

And inmost warmth of love's delight 
Is honour*? Who'd not rather kiss 

A duchess than a milkmaid, prank 
Them like in beauty both, which is 

Precedent nature's obvious rank ? 
Hence, when I see the maid that's fair 

With heavenly graces, chaste and good, 



54 The Accompaniments, 

No lower honours, I declare, 
Promote so passionate a mood. 

Those lesser vaunts are dimm'd or lost 
Which plume her name or paint her lip, 

Extinct in the far brighter boast 
Of her angelic fellowship. 



The Accompaniments. 55 



II. 

Love Ceremonious. 

T^EEP your undrest, familiar style 

For strangers, but respect your friend, 
Her most, whose matrimonial smile 

Is and asks honour without end. 
'Tis found, and needs it must so be, 

That life from love's allegiance flags, 
When love forgets his majesty 

In sloth's unceremonious rags. 
Love should make home a stately Court : 

There let the world's rude, hasty ways 
Be fashion'd to a loftier port, 

And learn to bow and stand at gaze ; 
And let the sweet, respective sphere 

Of personal worship there obtain 



56 The Accompaniments. 

Circumference for moving clear, 
None treading on another's train. 

This makes that pleasures do not cloy, 
And dignifies our mortal strife 

With calmness and considerate joy, 
Befitting our immortal life. 



The Accompaniments. 57 



III. 

The Sentences. 



T WORSHIPD Kate with all my will. 

In idle moods you seem to see 
A lofty spirit in a hill, 

A human touch about a tree. 

2. 
Maid, choosing man, remember this : 

You take his nature with his name : 
Ask, too, what his religion is; 

For you will soon be of the same. 



5$ The Accompaniments. 

3- 

Who pleasure follows pleasure slays; 

God's wrath upon himself he wreaks: 
But all delights rejoice his days 

Who takes with thanks, yet never seeks. 



IDYL III. 

THE COUNTY BALL. 



Tit TELL, Heaven be thank'd my first- 
* * love fail'd, 

As, Heaven be thank'd, all first-loves do ! 
Thought I, when Fanny past me sail'd, 

First-loved for what I never knew; 
Unless for colouring in her talk, 

When cheeks and merry mouth would 
show 
Three roses on a single stalk, 

The middle wanting room to blow. 



60 The County Ball. 

2. 
But there danced she, who from the leaven 

Of ill preserved my heart and wit 
All unawares, for she was heaven, 

Others at best but fit for it. 
I mark'd her step, with peace elate, 

Her brow more beautiful than morn, 
Her sometime air of girlish state 

Which sweetly waived its right to scorn ; 
The giddy crowd, she grave the while, 
Although, as 'twere beyond her will, 
About her mouth the baby smile 

That she was born with linger'd still. 
Her ball-dress seem'd a breathing mist, 

From the fair form exhaled and shed, 
Raised in the dance with arm and wrist 

All warmth and light, unbraceleted. 
Her motion, feeling 'twas beloved, 

The pensive soul of tune express'd, 
And, oh, what perfume, as she moved, 



The County Ball. 61 

Came from the flowers in her breast ! 
Ah, none but I discern'd her looks, 

When in the whirl she pass'd me by, 
For love is like a ghost, and brooks 

Only the chosen seer's eye; 
And who but she could once divine 

The halo and the happy trance, 
When now her arm reposed on mine, 

In all the pauses of the dance ! 
If either for all else but one 

Was blinder than the mole that delves, 
Dark-lanterns for all else, we shone 

But to each other and ourselves. 

3- 

Whilst so her beauty fed my sight, 

And whilst I lived in what she said, 
Accordant airs, like all delight 

Most sweet when noted least, were play'd ; 
And was it like the Pharisee 



62 The County Ball. 

If I in secret bow'd my face 
With joyful thanks that I should be, 

Not as were many, but with grace, 
And fortune of well-nurtured youth, 

And days on sordid cares defile, 
And thoughts accustom'd to the truth, 

Made capable of her fair smile*? 

4- 

About her neck, with heart full gay, 

I dropp'd her little eider cloak, 
And bade adieu, and rode away, 

Charles Huntly following. "Would I 
smoke ? " 

"Yes" (to stop talk); but this my care, 

Was vain : he joked about the Ball, 
And laugh'd at all the people there : 

The Churchills chiefly stirr'd his gall : 
" My smart things, Vaughan you know, 
amuse 



The County Ball. 63 

"The girls; but they're not like the rest; 
" They make one mind one's p's and q's, 

"And smile at me, and not my jest. 
"Give me your brisk and light-built Blondes! 

" That tall one's like as like can be 
" To those slow Kriemhilds and Isondes 

"You storm'd about at Trinity. 
" You've changed ! or perhaps you met too 
young : 

" Mulier formosa, Vaughan you know : 
"And when one knows these charmers long 

" By Jove we find the fins will show ! " — 
Did he not waltz with Fanny Fry? — 

" Ah, there's a trump, now ; worth a pack 
"Of sulky Kriemhilds. I'd give cry, 

" But that they say you hunt that track." 
" They err ! Good-night ! Here lies my 
course, 

"Through Wilton." — Silence blest mine 
ears, 



64 The County Ball. 

And, weak at heart with vague remorse, 

A passing poignancy of tears 
Attack'd mine eyes. By pale and park, 

I rode, and ever seem'd to see, 
In the transparent, starry dark, 

That splendid brow of chastity, 
That soft and yet subduing light, 

At which, as at the sudden moon, 
I held my breath, and thought "how 
bright ! " 

That guileless beauty in its noon, 
Compelling tribute of desires, 

Ardent as day when Sirius reigns, 

Pure as the permeating fires, 

That smoulder in the opal's veins. 



IV. 
THE QUEEN'S ROOM. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

Accepted. 

"' I ^O marry her and take her home!" 

The Poet, who his vision tells, 
Describing greatness, speaks of Rome, 

And each thing shows by something else 
But, through the list of Poets, look, 

And who so happy to have found, 
In universal nature's book, 

A likeness for a life so crown'd ! 
Here they speak best who best express 

Their inability to speak, 



68 The Accompaniments. 

And none are strong, but who confess 
With happy skill that they are weak; 

For, in divinity and love 

What's worth the saying can't be said, 

And all who babble here approve 

The wise, who're dumb on either head. 



The Accompaniments. 69 



II. 

Rejected. 



PERHAPS she's dancing somewhere 



p 



now ! " 



The thoughts of light and music wake 
Sharp jealousies, that grow and grow 

Till silence and the darkness ache. 
He sees her step, so proud and gay, 

Which, ere he spake, foretold despair; 
Thus did she look, on such a day, 

And such the fashion of her hair; 
And thus she stood, when, stooping low, 

He took the bramble from her dress, 
And thus she laugh'd and talk'd, whose 
" No " 

Was sweeter than another's "Yes." 



70 The Accompaniments. 

He feeds on thoughts that most deject; 

He impudently feigns her charms, 
So reverenced in his own respect, 

Clasp'd dreadfully by other arms ; 
And turns, and puts his brows, that ache, 

Against the pillow where 'tis cold : 
If only now his heart would break ! 

But, oh, how much a heart can hold! 



The Accompaniments. 71 



III. 

The Sentences. 

1. 

W THAT may the desperate sinner win, 
Whom stripes and precepts cannot 
move? 
Only the sadness of all sin 

When look'd at in the light of love. 

2. 

You cannot see these robes of white 
In which I sing of love? Alack, 

Your darkness shows in heavenly light, 
Though whiteness in the dark is black ! 



72 The Accompaniments. 

3- 

Strong passions mean weak will ; and he 
Who truly knows the strength and bliss 

Which are in love, will own with me 
No passion, but a virtue 'tis. 



IDYL IV. 

THE QUEEN'S ROOM. 

1. 
'H [^HERE'S nothing sweeter than the days 
In which young Love makes every 
thought 
Pure as a bride's blush, when she says 
" I will " unto she knows not what ; 
And lovers, on the love-lit globe, 

For love's sweet sake, walk yet aloof, 
And hear Time weave the marriage-robe, 
Attraction warp and reverence woof! 



74 The Queen s Room. 

2. 

My Housekeeper, my Nurse of yore, 

Cried, as the latest carriage went, 
"Well, Mr. Felix, Sir, I'm sure 

" The morning's gone off excellent ! 
" I never saw the show to pass 

" The ladies, in their fine fresh gowns, 
" So sweetly dancing on the grass, 

" To music with its ups and downs. 
" We'd such work, Sir, to clean the plate : 

" Twas just the busy times of old. 
" The Queen's Room, Sir, look'd quite like 
state. 

" Miss Smythe, when she went up, made 
bold 
" To peep into the rose boudoir, 

" And cried, ' How charming ! all quite 
new; ' 
"And wonder'd whom it could be for. 

"All but Miss Honor look'd in too. 



The Queen's Room. 75 

" But she's too proud to peep and pry : 

- None's like that sweet Miss Honor, Sir! 
" Excuse my humbleness, but I 

" Pray Heav'n you'll get a wife like her ! 
"All poor folks love Miss Honors ways 

" Better than money. Mrs. Rouse, 
" Who ought to know a lady, says 

"No finer goes to Wilton House. 
" Miss Bagshaw thought that dreary room 

"Had kill'd old Mrs. Vaughan with 
fright: 
44 She would not sleep in such a tomb 

" For all her host was worth a night ! 
" Miss Fry, Sir, laugh'd : they talk'd the rest 

" In French ; and French Sir's Greek 
to me. 
" But, though they smiled, and seem'd to jest, 

" No love was lost, for I could see 
" How serious-like Miss Honor was " — 

" Well, Nurse, this is not my affair. 



76 The Queen s Room. 

" The ladies talk'd in French with cause ! 
" Good-day ; and thank you for your 
prayer." 

3- 

I loiter'd through the vacant house, 

Soon to be hers; in one room stay'd, 
Of old my mother's : there my vows 

Of endless thanks were oftenest paid. 
This room its first condition kept ; 

For, on the road to Sarum Town, 
There once an English Queen had slept, 

Before the Hurst was half pull'd down. 
The pictured walls the place became : 

Across the Brook Anaurus, here, 
Stout Jason bore the wrinkled dame 

Whom service changed to Juno ; there, 
Ixion's false desire, instead 

Of the nuptial goddess, clasp'd a cloud; 
And, here, translated Psyche fed 

Her gaze on Love, in heaven allow'd. 



The Queen s Room. 77 

4- 
And in this chamber had she been ! 

And into that she would not look ! 
My joy, my vanity, my Queen, 

At whose dear name my pulses shook ! 
Ah, reader, might thy thoughts, like bees, 

O'erswarm this plot of honey'd flowers, 
Which I, with toil more sweet than ease, 

Transplanted have from Nature's bowers, 
And taste its various pleasures, all 

Distill'd to one ecstatic line, 
Thou might'st, if thou hast loved, recall 

What peace and ardour then was mine. 



THE LOVE-LETTERS. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

The Paradox. 

TlOW strange a thing a Lover seems 

To animals that do not love ! 
Look where he walks and talks in dreams, 

And flouts us with his Lady's glove : 
How foreign is the garb he wears; 

And how his great devotion mocks 
Our poor propriety, and scares 
The undevout with paradox! 
6 



82 The Accompaniments, 

His soul, through scorn of worldly care, 

And great extremes of sweet and gall, 
And musing much on all that's fair, 

Grows witty and fantastical: 
He sobs his joy and sings his grief, 

And evermore finds such delight 
In simply picturing his relief, 

That 'plaining seems to cure his plight: 
He makes his sorrow, when there's none; 

His fancy blows both cold and hot; 
Next to the wish that she'll be won, 

His first hope is that she may not; 
He sues, yet deprecates consent; ■ 

Would she be captured she must fly; 
She looks too happy and content, 

For whose least pleasure he would die; 
Oh, cruelty, she cannot care 

For one to whom she's always kind ! 
He says he's naught, but oh, despair, 

If he's not Jove to her fond mind ! 



The Accompaniments. 83 

He's jealous if she pets a dove, 

She must be his with all her soul; 
Yet 'tis a postulate in love 

That part is greater than the whole, 
And all his apprehension's stress, 

When he's with her, regards her hair, 
Her hand, a ribbon of her dress, 

As if his life were only there : 
Because she's constant, he will change, 

And kindest glances coldly meet, 
And, all the time he seems so strange, 

His soul is fawning at her feet: 
Of smiles and simple heaven grown tired, 

He wickedly provokes her tears, 
And when she weeps, as he desired, 

Falls slain with ecstasies of fears ; 
He finds, although she has no fault, 

Except the folly to be his ; 
He worships her, the more to exalt 

The profanation of a kiss ; 



84 The Accompaniments. 

Health's his disease; he's never well 

But when his paleness shames her rose ; 
His faith's a rock-built citadel, 

Its sign a flag that each way blows; 
His o'erfed fancy frets and fumes; 

And Love, in him, is fierce like Hate, 
And ruffles his ambrosial plumes 

Against the bars of time and fate. 



The Accompaniments. 85 



II. 

The Sentences, 

1. 

'HT^O many riddles here's the clue: 

For fellowship and self-respect, 
Love, who will kiss and worship too, 
Must have both mystery and defect 

2. 
The grateful love the Giver's law ; 

But who the Giver not admire, 
From sin or doubtful sanction draw 

The biting sauce their feasts require. 



86 The Accompaniments. 

3- 
Samson the mighty, Solomon 

The wise, and holy David, all 

Must doff their caps to Love, for none 

But fell as Love would scorn to fall. 



IDYL V. 

THE LOVE-LETTERS. 



'VT'OU ask, Will admiration halt, 

Should tjme divulge some hidden 
mote? 
Oh, how I wish I knew that fault, 

That I, who do but love, might dote ! 
You that have stoop'd to my estate 

Will I so constantly admire, 
Yourself yourself shall emulate, 

And be yourself your own desire. 
I'll nobly mirror you too fair, 

And, when you're false to me your glass, 



88 The Love-letters, 

What's wanting you'll by that repair, 

So bring yourself through me to pass. 
O Dearest, tell me how to prove 

Good-will which cannot be express'd : 
The beneficial heart of love 

Is labour in an idle breast. 
Name in the world your chosen part, 

And here I vow, with all the bent 
And application of my heart 

To give myself to your content. 
Would you live on, home-worship'd, thus, 

Not proudly high nor poorly low ? 
Indeed the lines are fall'n to us 

In pleasant places ! Be it so. 
But would you others heav'nward move, 

By sight not faith, while you they admire? 
I'll help with zeal, as I approve, 

That just and merciful desire. 
High as the lonely moon to view 

I'll lift your light: do you decree 



The Love-letters. 89 

Your place, I'll win it: for from you 

Command inspires capacity. 
Or, unseen, would you sway the world 

More surely % Then in loftiest rhyme 
I'll raise your emblem, fair unfurl'd 

With blessing in the breeze of time. 
Faith removes mountains, much more love : 

Let your contempt abolish me 
If aught of your devisal prove 

Too hard or high to do or be. 



90 The Love-letters. 



II. 



I found your letter, Love. How kind 

To leave it there ! I cannot tell 
How happy I am, or how you find 

Words to express your thoughts so well. 
The Girls to-night attend the Ball 

At Wilton. If you can, Dear, come : 
Or any day this week you call 

You'll find Papa and me at home. 
You said to Mary once — I hope 

You meant it — women should be vain : 
On Saturday your friend, (her Pope,) 

The Bishop dined with us again. 
She put the question, if they ought? 

He turn'd it cleverly away, 
(For giddy Mildred cried, she thought 

We must,) with " What we must we may." 



The Love-letters, 91 

Dear Papa laugh'd, and said 'twas sad 

To think how vain his girls would be, 
Above all Mary, now she had 

Episcopal authority. 
But I was very dull, dear Friend, 

And went upstairs at last and cried. 
Be sure to come to-day, or send 

A rose-leaf kiss'd on either side. 

Adieu ! I am not well. Last night 

I had startling dreams: I often woke, 
The summer-lightning was so bright ; 

And when it rlash'd I thought you spoke. 



92 The Love-letters. 



III. 



What lifts you in my thoughts so far 

Beyond all else % Let Love be true ! 
'Tis that which all right women are, 

But which I'll know in none but you. 
You are to me the only Ark 

Of that high mystery which locks 
The lips of joy, or speaks in dark 

Enigmas and in paradox, 
That potent charm, which none can fly, 

Nor would, which makes me bond and 
free, 
Nor can I tell if first 'twas I 

Chose it, or it elected me; 
Which, when I look intentest, lo, 

Cheats most mine eyes, albeit my heart, 



The Love-letters. 93 

Content to feel and not to know, 

Perceives it all in every part ; 
I kiss its cheek, its life divine 

Exhales from its resplendent shroud; 
Ixion's fate reversed is mine, 

Authentic Juno seems a cloud ; 
I feel a happy warmth, I see 

A bright circumference of rays, 
But darkness where the sun should be 

Fills adoration with amaze; 
And when, for joy's relief, I think 

To fathom with the line of thought 
The well from which I, blissful, drink, 

The spring's so deep, I come to nought. 



VI. 
THE REVULSION. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

The Pearl. 

AY, Muse, who warblest at mine ear 

That Prothalamium jubilant 
Which I, in weakness and in fear, 

Repeat, and of its glory scant, 
Say, what of those who are not wives, 

Nor have them ; tell what fate they prove 
Who keep the pearl which happier lives 

Cast in the costly cup of Love? 

1 answer, (for the sacred Muse 

Is dumb,) " 111 chance is not for aye ; 

7 



98 The Accompaniments. 

44 But who with erring preference choose 

" The sad and solitary way, 
44 And think peculiar praise to get 

44 In heaven, where error is not known, 
44 They have the separate coronet 

" They sought, but miss a worthier crown. 
" Virgins are they, before the Lord, 

44 Whose hearts are pure : the vestal fire 
44 Is not, as some misread the Word, 

44 By marriage quench'd, but burns the 
higher." 



The Accompaniments. 99 



II. 

Rachel. 

^VTOU loved her, and would lie all night 

Thinking how beautiful she was, 
And what to do for her delight 

Now both are bound with alien laws ! 
Be patient; put your heart to school; 
Weep if you will, but not despair: 
The trust that nought goes wrong by rule 

Makes light a load the many bear. 
Love, if heav'n's heav'n, shall meet his 
dues, 
Though here unmatch'd, or match'd 
amiss ; 
Meanwhile, the gentle cannot choose 
But learn to love the lips they kiss. 
LO! 



ioo The Accompaniments. 

Ne'er hurt the homely sister's ears 
With Rachel's beauties: secret be 

The lofty mind whose lonely tears 
Protest against mortality. 



The Accompaniments. 101 



III. 

The Sentences. 

l. 

O AY Grace : it is not time mispent : 

Worst food this betters, and the best, 
Wanting this natural condiment, 

Breeds crudeness, and will not digest. 

2. 

God loves no heart to others iced, 
Nor erring flatteries, which bedim 

Our glorious membership of Christ, 
Wherein all loving His love Him. 



102 The Accompaniments. 

3- 

All blessings ask a blessed mood : 

The sauce is here much more than meat 
Happy who chooses gratitude ! 

That wanting, God will try regret 



IDYL VI. 

THE REVULSION. 



A I ^WAS when the spousal time of May- 
Hangs all the hedge with bridal 
wreaths, 
And air's so sweet the bosom gay 

Gives thanks for every breath it breathes, 
When like to like is gladly moved, 

And each thing joins in Spring's refrain, 
"Let those love now, who never loved; 
" Let those who have loved love again ; " 



104 The Revulsion. 

That I, in whom the sweet time wrought, 

Lay stretch'd within a lonely glade, 
Abandon'd to delicious thought 

Beneath the softly twinkling shade. 
The leaves, all stirring, mimick'd well 

A neighbouring rush of rivers cold, 
And, as the sun or shadow fell, 

So these were green and those were 
gold; 
In masses dim, blue hyacinths droop'd, 

And breadths of primrose cool'd the air, 
Which, wandering through the woodland, 
stoop'd 

And gather'd perfumes here and there ; 
Upon the spray the squirrel swung, 

And careless songsters, six or seven, 
Sang lofty songs the leaves among, 

Fit for their only listener, Heaven. 
I sigh'd, " Immeasurable bliss 

" Gains nothing by becoming more ! 



The Revulsion. 105 

"Millions have meaning; after this 
"Cyphers forget the integer." 

2. 
And so I mused, till musing brought 

A dream that shook my house of clay, 
And, in my humbled heart, I thought : 

To me there yet may come a day 
When o'er my head great waters roll, 

And this poor hope is all I have 
That faith, though helpless to console, 

May still be strong enough to save; 
And this the single vestige seen 

Of comfort, earthly or divine, 
The thing I suffer must have been 

Her portion, had it not been mine. 
Then I, who knew, from watching life, 

That blows prepared for seldom fall, 
Rehearsed the losing of a wife, 

And faced its terrors each and all. 



106 The Revulsion. 

The self-chastising fancy show'd 

The coffin with its ghastly breath ; 
The innocent sweet face that owed 

None of its innocence to death ; 
The lips that used to talk; the knell 

That bade the world beware of mirth ; 
The heartless and intolerable 

Indignity of " earth to earth ; " 
Love's still recurrent jubilees, 

Each dropping on my life like lead; 
At morn remembering by degrees 

That she I dream'd about was dead ; 
The duties of my life the same, 

Their meaning for the feelings gone; 
Friendship impertinent, and fame 

Disgusting; and, more harrowing none, 
Small household troubles fall'n to me, 

As, " What time would I dine to day ? 
And, oh, how could I bear to see 

Her noisy children at their play. 



The Revulsion. 107 

Besides, where all things limp and halt, 

It could not chance that I alone 
Should keep my love without default 

Pitch'd at the true and heavenly tone: 
Some festal-day might come to mind 

That miss'd the gift which more endears ; 
Some hour which might have been more kind, 

And now less fertile in vain tears; 
Some little wrong, now greatly rued; 

Remorse of misesteem'd delight, 
And love, in disbelieving mood, 

Deserting his celestial height; 
The thought that God in grace sent grief 

To make me less the world's, and more 
Meek-hearted : ah, what sick relief ! 

Why bow'd I not my heart before? 

3- 

"O, Heav'n," I cried, with chill alarm, 

" If this fantastic horror shows 



108 The Revulsion. 

" The feature of an actual harm ! " 

And, coming straight to Sarum Close, 
As one that dreams his wife is dead, 

And cannot in his slumber weep, 
And moans upon his wretched bed, 

And wakes, and finds her there asleep. 
And laughs and sighs, so I, not less 

Relieved, beheld, with blissful start, 
The light and happy loveliness 

Which lay so heavy on my heart. 



VII. 



TETE-A-TETE. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

The Mistress. 

TF he's capricious she'll be so, 

But, if his duties constant are, 
She lets her loving favour glow 

As steady as a tropic star. 
Appears there nought for which to weep, 
She'll weep for nought, for his dear 
sake; 
She clasps her sister in her sleep; 
Her love in dreams is most awake. 



112 The Accompaniments. 

Her soul, that once with pleasure shook, 

Did any eyes her beauty own, 
Now wonders how they dare to look 

On what belongs to him alone; 
The indignity of taking gifts 

Exhilarates her loving breast; 
A rapture of submission lifts 

Her life into celestial rest; 
There's nothing left of what she was; 

Back to the babe the woman dies; 
And all the wisdom that she has 

Is to love him for being wise. 
She's confident because she fears; 

And, though discreet when he's away, 
If none but her dear despot hears, 

She'll prattle like a child at play. 
Perchance, when all her praise is said, 

He tells the news, a battle won, 
On either side ten thousand dead, 

Describing how the whole was done : 



The Accompaniments. 113 

She thinks, "He's looking on my face! 

"I am his joy; whate'er I do, 
"He sees such time-contenting grace 

" In that, he'd have me always so ! " 
And, evermore, for either's sake, 

To the sweet folly of the dove, 
She joins the cunning of the snake, 

To rivet and exalt his love ; 
Her mode of candour is deceit; 

And what she thinks from what she'll say, 
Although I'll never call her cheat, 

Lies far as Scotland from Cathay. 
Without his knowledge he was won ; 

Against his nature kept devout; 
She'll never tell him how 'twas done, 

And he will never find it out. 
If, sudden, he suspects her wiles, 

And hears her forging chain and trap, 
And looks, she sits in simple smiles, 

Her two hands lying in her lap. 
8 



114 The Accompaniments. 

Her secret, (privilege of the Bard, 
Whose fancy is of either sex,) 

Is mine; but let the darkness guard 

Mysteries that light would more perplex. 



The Accompaniments. 115 



II. 

The Sentences. 

1. 
"T SAW him kiss your cheek!" "Tis 
true." 
" O, modesty ! " " 'Twas strictly kept : 
"He thought me asleep; at least, I knew 
"He thought I thought he thought I 
slept." 

2. 
Oh, where shall art, man's nature, halt; 

And who shall say how far above 
Its present bliss may Time exalt 
Civility's sweet nursling, Love ! 



ii 6 The Accompaniments. 

3- 

That nothing here may want its praise, 

Know, she who by her dress reveals 
A fine and modest taste, displays 
More loveliness than she conceals. 



IDYL VII. 

TETE-A-TETE. 



T)RAY, dear Papa, let me go too, 

" If Honor and Felix do not mind ! 
"What, does not Felix talk to you ? " 

" Oh, yes, Papa ; he's very kind ; 
" He knows not which he should prefer ; 

" He sits by Honor, and talks to me, 
"And vexes so both me and her 

" With this impartiality : 



n8 Tete-a-Tete. 

"Poor Honor says — " "O, Mildred, what?" 
" Well, come with me," replied the Dean. 

Honoria fetch'd his stick and hat, 
And went again to work her screen. 

2. 

" What's this ? " " Miss Gussett's Fashion- 
Book. 
" Do you like flounc'd or plain skirts 
best?" 
" O. flounc'd, like your's. These — " " gath- 
ers " " look 
" Too straight: I like them thus, recess'd." 
" That fashion's old." " You've charming 
taste 
" In colours : dim grey with a dash 
44 Of gayest azure at the waist! 

"How I should like to have that sash! 
" Oh, thanks ! What narrow boundaries hold 
" My world ! You are so fair — but, Dear, 



Tete-d-Tete. 119 

" You must be tired of being told *? " 

" Oh, no, Love ! " " Are you pleased to 
hear ? " 
" I would, of course, seem fair to you." 

" But, Sweetest, you must promise me 
" To think my praises simply true ! 

"Come to the mirror. Why not? See, 
"Are you not beautiful? Confess! 

"Nay, till you do, you must not go! 
" There, while you're blushing, tell me ! " 
" Yes." 

" You can't see with your head turn'd so." 

3- 

I praised her, but no praise could fill 

The depths of her desire to please, 
Though dull to others as a Will 

To them that have no legacies. 
The more I praised the more she shone; 

Her eyes incredulously bright, 



120 Tete-a-Tete. 

And all her beauty fully blown 
Beneath the beams of my delight. 

Sweet rivalry was thus begot : 

By turns, my speech, in passion's style, 

With flatteries the truth o'ershot, 

And she surpass'd them with her smile. 

4- 

"You have my heart so sweetly seized, 

"And I confess, nay, 'tis my pride 
" That I'm with you so solely pleased, 

" That, if I'm pleased with aught beside, 
"As music, or the month of June, 

" My friend's devotion, or his wit, 
"A rose, a rainbow, or the moon, 

" It is that you illustrate it. 
" All these are parts where you're the whole ! 

"You fit the taste for Paradise, 
"To which your charms draw up the soul 

"As turning spirals draw the eyes. 



Tete-a-Tete. 121 

" Nature to you was more than kind ! 

" Twas fond perversity to dress 
" So simple and so meek a mind 

" In such a pomp of loveliness 
44 But, praising you, the fancy deft 

"Flies wide and lets the quarry stray, 
"And when all's said, there's something 
left, 

"And that's the thing I meant to say." 

5- 

"Dear Felix!" "Dearest Honor!" — There 

Was Aunt Maude's noisy knock and 
ring.— 
" Stop, Felix ; you have caught my hair. 
" Thanks. Is it smooth *? Now will you 
bring 
" My screen % Good-morning, Aunt ! " 
"Why, Puss, 
"You look magnificent to-day." 



122 Tete-a-Tete. 

" Here's Felix, Aunt." " Fox and green 
goose ! 
" Who handsome gets should handsome 
pay." 
" You're friends, dear Aunt ! " " O, to be 
sure ! 
" Good morning ! Go on flattering, Sir ; 
"A woman's like the Koh-i-noor, 

" Worth just the price that's put on her." 



VIII. 

THE FRIENDS. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

Beauty. 

T3 Y Heaven's law, the Jew might take 

A slave to wife, if she was fair; 
So strong a plea does beauty make 

That, where 'tis seen, discretion there 
Inhabits also. If we learn 

That this illustrious vaunt's a lie, 
The soul which can indeed discern 

Sees, ugly contrariety, 
And laughs at Nature's wanton mood, 

Which, thus the swinish thing to flout, 
Though haply in its gross way good, 

Hangs such a jewel in its snout. 



126 The Accompaniments. 



II. 

Wisdom. 

T \ TOULD Wisdom for herself be woo'd, 
And wake the foolish from his 
dream, 
She must be glad as well as good, 

And must not only be but seem : 
Beauty and joy are hers by right; 

And, , knowing this, I wonder less 
That she's so scorn'd, when falsely dight 

In misery and ugliness. 
What's that which Heav'n to man endears, 

And that which eyes no sooner see 
Than the heart says, with floods of tears, 

" Ah, that's the thing which I would be ! " 



The Accompaniments. 127 

Not childhood, full of frown and fret; 

Not youth, impatient to disown 
Those visions high, which to forget 

Were worse than never to have known; 
Not worldlings, in whose fair outside 

Nor courtesy nor justice fails, 
Whose virtues are but vices tied, 

Like Samson's foxes, by the tails ; 
Not poets : real things are dreams, 

When dreams are as realities, 
And boasters of celestial gleams 

Go stumbling aye for want of eyes ; 
Not patriots or people's men, 

In whom two worse-match'd evils meet 
Than ever sought Adullam's den, 

Base conscience and a high conceit; 
Not new-made saints, their feelings iced, 

Their joy in man and nature gone, 
Who sing, " O, easy yoke of Christ ! " 

But find 'tis hard to get it on ; 



128 The Accompaniments. 

Not great men, even when they're good: 

The good man whom the Lord makes 
great, 
By some disgrace of chance or blood 

He fails not to humiliate : 
Not these : but souls, found here and there, 

Oases in our waste of sin, 
Where every thing is well and fair, 

And God remits his discipline; 
Whose sweet subdual of the world 

The worldling scarce can recognize, 
And ridicule, against it hurl'd, 

Drops with a broken sting and dies; 
Who nobly, if they cannot know 

Whether a 'scutcheon's dubious field 
Carries a falcon or a crow, 

Fancy a falcon on the shield ; 
Yet ever careful not to hurt 

God's honour, who creates success, 
Their praise of even the best desert 



The Accompaniments. 129 

Is but to have presumed no less ; 
And, should their own life plaudits bring, 

They're simply vex'd at heart that such 
An easy, yea, delightful thing 

Should move the minds of men so much. 
They live by law, not like the fool, 

But like the Bard, who freely sings 
In strictest bonds of rhyme and rule, 

And finds in them not bonds but wings. 
They shine like Moses in the face, 

And teach our hearts, without the rod, 
That God's grace is the only grace, 

And all grace is the grace of God. 
Their home is home; their chosen lot 

A private place and private name, 
But, if the world's want calls, they'll not 

Refuse the indignities of fame. 



1 3° The Accompaniments, 



III. 

Joy. 



O WEET Order hath its draught of bliss 
Graced with the pearl of God's consent, 
Ten times ecstatic in that 'tis 

Considerate and innocent. 
In vain Disorder grasps the cup : 

The pleasure's not enjoy'd, but spilt, 
And, if he stoops to lick it up, 

It only tastes of earth and guilt: 
His sorry raptures rest destroys; 

To live, like comets, they must roam: 
On settled poles turn solid joys, 

And sunlike pleasures shine at home. 



The Accompaniments. 131 



IV. 

The Sentences. 

1. 
/^\ IVE thanks for nought, if you've no 
more : 
And, having all things, do not doubt 
That nought, with thanks, is blest before 
Whate'er the world can give, without. 

2. 

Wouldst me with benefactions move, 
Unmoved thyself? Friend, let me lack ! 

I'll pauper it for nought but love, 
And even that I'll pay thee back. 



132 The Accompaniments. 

3- 

You love? That's high as you shall go; 

For 'tis as true as Gospel text 
Not noble then is never so, 

Either in this world or the next. 



IDYL VIII. 

THE FRIENDS. 



T^RANK'S long, dull letter, lying by 

The gay blue sash from Honor's waist, 
Reproach'd me; passion spared a sigh 

For friendship without cause disgraced. 
How should I greet him? how pretend 

The warmth that once his worth inspired ? 
Time was when either, in his friend, 

His own deserts with joy admired ; 
We took one side in school-debate, 

Like hopes pursued with equal thirst, 



134 The Friends. 

Were even-bracketed by Fate, 

Twin- Wranglers, seventh from the First; 
And either loved a lady's laugh 

More than all music: he and I 
Were perfect in the pleasant half 

Of universal charity. 

2. 
From pride of likeness thus I loved 

Him and he me, till love begot 
The lowliness which now approved 

Nothing but that which I was not. 
Blest was the pride of feeling so 

Subjected to a girl's soft reign ! 
She was my vanity, and, oh, 

All other vanities how vain ! 

3- 

Frank follow'd in his letter's track, 

And set my guilty heart at ease 



The Friends. 135 

By paying my excuses back 

With just the same apologies. 
So he'd neglected me as well ! 

Good fortune also paved the way 
For what I sought excuse to tell. 

He dined at Wilton yesterday, 
And met Honoria Churchill there: 

A lovelier girl he'd seldom seen ! . 
" You said the Wiltshire girls were fair, 

" But never mention'd her, the queen." 
How sweet to hear him praise her charms ! 

For love, like faith, though ne'er so sure, 
With slightest confirmation warms, 

And feels its great assurance more. 
" Have you not heard then *? She and I, 

" Grant Heav'n we both may live so long, 
"Are to be married next July. 

" Is she not lovely ! I did wrong 
"Not to inform you, but — " Then he 

Show'd me a portrait, and turn'd red. 



136 The Friends. 

" Charming ! " I cried. " Of course you'll be 
" My Groom's-man, Vaughan ? In June 
we wed." 

4- 
Each, rapturous, praised his lady's worth, 

Frank eloquently thus : " Her face 
" Is the summ'd sweetness of the earth, 

"Her soul the glass of heaven's grace, 
" To which she leads me by the hand ; 

"Or, briefly all the truth to say 
" To you, who briefly understand, 

" She is both heaven and the way. 
" She charms with manners pure and high, 

" The fruit of an ancestral tree, 
"And a devout life, order'd by 

" The rubric of civility ; 
" Displeasures and resentments pass 

"Athwart her charitable eyes 
" More fleetingly than breath from glass, 

"Or truth from bad men's memories; 



The Friends. 137 

" Her heart's so touch'd with other's woes 

' ; She has no need of chastisement; 
" Her lovely life's conditions close, 

" Like God's commandments, with con- 
tent, 
"And make an aspect calm and gay. 

M Where sweet affections come and go, 
" Till all who see her, smile, and say, 

" How fair and happy that she's so ! " — 
46 You paint Miss Churchill ! Pray go 
on "— 

;; She's perfect, and if joy was much 
" To think her Nature's paragon, 

" 'Tis more that there's another such ! " 

5- 

Praising and paying back the praise 
Of our sweet girls, t'ward Sarum Spire 

We walk'd in evening's golden haze, 
Friendship from passion stealing fire. 



138 The Friends. 

In joy's crown danced the feather jest, 
And, parting by the Deanery door, 

Clasp'd hands, less shy than words, confess'd 
We had not been true friends before. 



IX. 
THE REGATTA. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

"Platonic Love:' 

T^J IGHT art thou who wouldst rather be 

A doorkeeper in Love's fair house, 
Than lead the wretched revelry 

Where fools at swinish troughs carouse. 
But do not boast of being least; 

And if to kiss thy Mistress' skirt 
Amaze thy brain, scorn not the Priest 

Whom greater honours do not hurt. 
Stand off and gaze, if more than this 

Be more than thou canst understand, 



142 The Accompaniments. 

Revering him whose power of bliss, 

Angelic, dares to seize her hand, 
Or whose seraphic love makes flight 

To the apprehension of her lips; 
And think, the sun of such delight 

From thine own shadow takes eclipse 
And, wouldst thou to the same aspire, 

This is the art thou must employ, 
Live purely; so shalt thou acquire 

Unknown capacities of joy. 



The Accompaniments. 143 



II. 

Night- Thoughts. 

'nr^IS sweeter than all else below, 

The daylight and its duties done, 
To fold the arms for rest, and so 

Relinquish all regards but one; 
To see her features in the dark; 

To lie and meditate, once more, 
Some grace he did not fully mark, 

Some tone he had not heard before ; 
Then from beneath his head to take 

Her notes, her picture, and her glove, 
Put there for joy when he shall wake, 

And press them to the heart of love ; 
And then to whisper " Wife," and pray 

To live so long as not to miss 



144 The Accompaniments. 

That unimaginable day 

Which farther seems the nearer 'tis; 
And still from joy's unfathom'd well 

To drink, in sleep, while, on her brow 
Of innocence ineffable, 

The laughing bridal roses blow. 



The Accompaniments. 145 



III. 

The Sentences. 

1. 
T^ULL oft the Bard must curb his wit 
With, " That's a note beyond my 
voice ; 
"And, if I strove to utter it, 

" 'Twould not be melody but noise ! " 

2. 

Ice-cold strikes heaven's noble glow 
To spirits whose vital heat is hell ; 

And to corrupt hearts even so 
The songs I sing, the tale I tell. 
10 



146 The Accompaniments. 

3- 

Well-order'd and right-judging minds ! 

If love is virtue's only mood, 
And love's delightful, logic finds 
What's not delightful is not good. 



IDYL IX. 

THE REGATTA. 



TXTHAT should I do*? In such a wife 
Fortune had lavish'd all her store, 
And nothing now seem'd left for life 

But to deserve her more and more. 
To this I vow'd my life's whole scope; 

And Love said, M I forewarn you now, 
" The maiden will fulfil your hope 

"Only as you fulfil your vow." 



148 The Regatta. 

2. 
The boon she had ask'd, (a task for days,) 

Was done this morning while she slept, 
With that full heart which thinks no 
praise 

Of vows which are not more than kept: 
But loftier work did love impose, 

And studious hours. Alas, for these, 
While she from all my thoughts arose 

Like Venus from the restless seas ! 

3- 
I conn'd a scheme, with mind elate : 

My Uncle's land, which fell to me, 
My skill at College in debate, 

Made fair my chance for Salisbury: 
This vantage-ground once touch'd upon 

Thro' saps first labour'd out of sight, 
Far loftier peaks were lightly won 

By chamois-leaps from height to height ; 



The Regatta. 149 

And that great honour partly paid, 
Or recognized, at least, in life, 

Which this most sweet and noble Maid 
Should yield to him who call'd her Wife. 

4- 

An end, then, to the shameful sloth 

Which turn'd her favour to reproof! 
This very hour my happy oath 

Should work reform : I'd keep aloof 
From love's delight; to Sarum Close 

I'd give two evenings every week; 
(The first, this evening;) save on those, 

I nought would do, think, read, or speak, 
Which did not help my settled will 

To earn my country's just applause. 
And now, forthwith, to mend my skill 

In ethics, politics, and laws, 
The Statesman's learning ! Flush'd with 
power 



15° The Regatta. 

And pride of freshly-formed resolve, 
I read Helvetius half-an-hour ; 

But, halting in attempts to solve 
Why, more than all things else that be, 

A maiden's grace hath force to move 
That sensitive appetency 

Of intellectual good, call'd love, 
Took Blackstone down, who served to draw 

My swift-deriving thoughts ere long 
To love, which is the source of law, 

And, like a king, can do no wrong. 
I open'd Hyde, where loyal hearts, 

With faith unpropp'd by precedent, 
Began to play rebellious parts : 

O, mighty stir that little meant ! 
How dull the crude plough'd-fields of fact 

To me who trod the Elysian grove ! 
How idle all heroic act 

To the least suffering of love ! 
I could not read : so took my pen, 



The Regatta. .'1.51 

And thus commenced, from former notes, 
A Lecture for the Salisbury men, 

With due regard to Tory votes : 
"A road's a road, though worn to ruts: 

" They speed who travel straight therein ; 
"But he who tacks and tries short cuts 

" Gets praise of fools, and breaks his 
shin "— 
And here I stopp'd in sheer despair : 

But, what to-day was thus begun, 
I vow'd, back-lounging in my chair, 

To-morrow should indeed be done; 
Then loosed my chafing thoughts from school, 

To play with fancy as they chose, 
And then, to carry out my rule, 

I dress'd, and went to Sarum Close. 

5- 
Ah, how she laugh'd ! Diviner sense 

Did Nature, forming her, inspire 



152 The Regatta, 

To omit the grosser elements 

And make her all of air and fire ! 
To-morrow, Cowes' Regatta fell: 

The Dean would let his daughters go, 
If I went too. " With joy." Ah, well, 

After July 'twould not be so ! 
After July ? Oh, age to wait ! 

Look where she walked! The Dean 
should hear 
My plans: he would, perhaps, abate 

A month of this eternal year ! 
" There's much " said he " in what you say : 

" Such schemes it's quite right to defer 
" Till—" " Do, Sir, let it be in May ! " 

"Well, go and talk of it with her." 



THE EVE OF THE WEDDING. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

The Meditation. 



QHE sits upon her little bed, 

And muses by the musing moon: 
Ere this to-morrow she'll be wed ! 

Ere this? Ere this ? How strangely soon! 
An obvious blank of ignorance 

Lies full across her forward way, 
And shadows, cast from unknown chance, 

Make strange and dim the coming day. 
She must not muse too much ! Vague fear 

O'erfilms her apprehensive eye; 



156 The Accompaniments. 

And she may swoon, with no one near, 
And haply so, unmarried, die. 

Her faithless dread she now discards; 
And now remorseful memory flings 

Its glory round the last regards 

Of home and old accustom'd things. 

2. 
Her father's voice, her mother's eyes 

Accuse her treason : all in vain 
She thinks herself a wife, and tries 

To comprehend the greater gain : 
Her unknown fortune nothing cheers 

Her loving heart's familiar loss, 
And torrents of repentant tears 

Their hot and smarting threshold cross. 
When first within her bosom Love 

Took birth, and beat his blissful wings, 
It seem'd to lift her mind above 

All care for other earthly things ; 



The Accompaniments. 157 

But, oh, too lightly did she vow- 
To leave for aye her happy nest; 
And dreadful is the thought that now 

Assaults her weak and shaken breast: 
Ah, should her lover's love abate; 

And should she, miserable, lose 
All dear regards of maiden state, 

Dissolved by time and marriage dues. 
Once more those sickening dreams alloy 

Her golden hope with nameless blame : 
But dread, she trusts, will turn to joy, 

Like sombre smoke to sudden flame. 
With instinct of her ignorance, 

The simple virgin's veiled guide, 
She casts to Love the reins of chance, 

Nor recks what henceforth shall betide ; 
And, so determined, she collects 

Her scatter'd senses, much abused 
By fear, that monstrously reflects 

God's order'd future all confused. 



158 The Accompaniments. 

And now to rest ! At day's first gleam 
They'll come to wake her to her pride, 

And wearv looks would ill beseem 
Her Lover's decorated Bride. 



The Accompaniments. 159 



II. 

The Sentences. 

1. 
W T^HERE human motives are enough, 

Divine, there misdirected, fail, 
And they but rock on waters rough 

Whose winds of grace want nature's sail. 

2. 

Kind souls, you wonder why, love you, 
When you, you wonder why, love none 

We love, Sir, for the good we do, 
Not that which unto us is done ! 



160 The Accompaniments. 

3- 
Inevitably hapless plight 

Of mortals ! Hapless is the man 

Who cannot act his rule of right, 

And still more hapless he who can. 



IDYL IX. 

THE EVE OF THE WEDDING. 

1. 

QHE murmur'd, as I rose to go, 

" Oh, Felix, do you love me ? : 
" Sweet, 
" Why do you ask ? " "I scarcely know. 3 
"Adieu, then, till at church we meet." 

2. 
And was it no vain fantasy 

That lifted me from earth with pride? 
Should I to-morrow verily 

Be Bridegroom, and Honoria Bride ? 
11 



162 The Eve of the Wedding. 

Was I, in simple truth, henceforth 

To live the sole and supreme lord 
Of her whose smile for loftiest worth 

Were all too bountiful reward ? 
To live with her I worship'd, chain'd 

By chains not dissolubly wrought? 
Oh, bliss past all belief, it pain'd 

And strain'd the narrow house of thought. 
Patience and hope had parted truce, 

And all my thoughts and feelings were 
Like blinding mists driven up profuse 

Before the Day's resplendent car. 
Incredible life's promise seem'd, 

Or, credible, for life too great : 
Love his own deity blasphemed, 

And dofPd at last his heavenly state. 
What force, if man were placed so high, 

To further insolence set bars, 
And kept the chaste moon in the sky 

And bade him not tread out the stars ! 



The Eve of the Wedding, 163 

3- 

Vague discontents awaken'd, fed 

By wealth exceeding hope or aim, 
And fears, like Salamanders, bred 

In love's so long unfaltering flame. 
Ah, what if time should make us twain, 

Or course of custom let us run, 
With undistinguish'd heart and brain, 

Like neighbouring dew-drops into one? 
Or what if love were blind? Then she, 

This maid, who now appear'd most 
rare, 
When time had taught my heart to 
see, 

Might prove less worshipfully fair: 
If not, then I, found little worth, 

Might drop ridiculously down 
From love's heroic height to earth, 

And cast my sceptre and my crown. 



164 The Eve of the Wedding. 

4- 
In the still dark the stable-clock 

Struck, only twice, and, far away, 

With answering cheer the crying cock 

Rebuked the long, long lingering day. 

5- 
What, should I thus neglect my pledge 

To keep love's stately honour bright, 
And, knowing haste is sacrilege 

In heaven, at last deny the right ! 
I told myself how Jacob paid 

The patient price of Rachel, then 
What reverent grace Tobias said 

To Sarah's innocent " Amen : " 
'Twas all in vain: true will was storm'd 

By lawless hope and lawless fear, 
And fire-mists of a world unform'd 

Hid from my soul the azure clear. 



The Eve of the Wedding. 165 

6. 

But Heav'n, who often grants us nought, 

Till. wean-, we have ceased to ask. 
Absolved me now from restless thought. 

And put aside the cloudy mask : 
The self-forgetting heart of love, 

That seeks to give, not gain delight. 
Like morning bade the mists remove, 

And so once more I breathed aright; 
And I rehearsed my marriage vow. 

And swore her welfare to prefer 
To all things, and for aye as now 

To live, not for myself but her. 
Forth, from the glittering spirits peace 

And gayety ineffable, 
Strearrrd to the heart delight and ease, 

As from an overflowing well; 
And. orderly deriving thence 

Its pleasure perfect and allow'd, 



166 The Eve of the Wedding. 

Bright as the spirit shone the sense, 

As with the sur a fleecy cloud. 
If now to part with her could make 

Her pleasure greater, sorrow less, 
I for my epitaph would take 

Ci To serve seem'd more than to possess." 
I well perceiv'd, in vision sweet 

Which dazzled with bright dew mine 
eyes, 
That love and joy draw vital heat 

From altar fires of sacrifice. 

7- 

The daylight up the sky now crept, 
And birds were garrulous in the grove, 

And on my marriage-morn, I slept 
A soft sleep, undisturb'd by love. 



XI. 
THE DEPARTURE. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

Womanhood. 

T)E man's hard virtues highly wrought, 

But let my gentle Mistress be, 
In every look, word, deed, and thought, 

Nothing but sweet and womanly! 
Her virtues please my virtuous mood, 

But what at all times I admire 
Is, not that she is wise or good, 

But just the thing which I desire. 
With versatility to bring 

Her mental tone to any strain, 
If oft'nest she is anything, 

Be it thoughtless, talkative, and vain. 



17° The Accompaniments. 

That seems in her supremest grace 
Which, virtue or not, apprises me 

That my familiar arms embrace 
Unfathomable mystery. 



The Accompaniments. 171 



II. 

"The Symbol. 

A S if I chafed the sparks from glass 
And said, " It lightens," hitherto 
The songs I've made of love may pass 

For all but for proportion true ; 
But likeness and proportion both 

Hence fail, as if a child in glee, 
Catching the flakes of the salt froth, 

Cried, " Look, my mother, here's the 
sea." 
Yet by the help of what's so weak, 

But not diverse, to those who know, 
And only unto those I speak, 
May far-inferring fancy show 



172 The Accompaniments. 

Love's living sea by coasts uncurb'd, 
It's depth, it's mystery, and it's might, 

It's indignation if disturb'd, 

The glittering peace of it's delight. 



The Accompaniments. 173 



III. 

The Sentences. 

1. 
TJ ESPECTS with threefold grace endue 

The right to be familiar; none 
Whose ways forget that they are two 
Perceive the bliss of being one. 

2. 
I vow'd unvarying faith ; and she 

To whom in full I pay that vow, 
Rewards me with variety 

Which men who change can never know. 



174 The Accompaniments. 

3- 

"The man seeks first to please his wife," 
Declares but not complains St. Paul: 

And other loves have little life, 

When she's not loved the most of all. 



IDYL XI. 

THE DEPARTURE. 



IFE smitten with a feverish chill, 
The brain too tired to understand, 
In apathy of heart and will, 

I took the woman from the hand 
Of him who stood for God, and heard 

Of Christ, and of the Church his Bride ; 
The Feast, by presence of the Lord 

And his first Wonder, beautified; 
The mystic sense to Christian men ; 

The bonds in innocency made, 



176 The Departure. 

And gravely to be enter'd then 

For children, godliness, and aid, 
And honour'd, and kept free from smirch; 

And how a man must love his wife 
No less than Christ did love his Church, 

If need be, giving her his life : 
And, vowing then the mutual vow, 

The tongue spake, but intention slept: 
Ah, well for us Heav'n asks not how 

Such oaths are sworn, but how they're 
kept ! 

2. 
" While Honor's changing " (said the Dean) 

" Her bridal for her travelling dress, 
" I'll preach allegiance to your Queen. 

" Preaching's the trade which I profess ; 
" And one more minute's mine ! You know 

" I've paid my girl a father's debt, 
"And this last charge is all I owe. 

" She's your's : but I love more than yet 



The Departure. 177 

"You can: such fondness only wakes 

"When time has rais'd the heart above 
" The prejudice of youth, which makes 

" Beauty conditional to love. 
" Prepare to meet the weak alarms 

"Of novel nearness: recollect 
"The eye which magnifies her charms 

" Is microscopic to defect. 
" You smile ! You'll find out much to mend, 

" Though never girl, I think, had less ! — 
"Watch, by the way, or else she'll spend 

" Too much in alms-deeds and on dress. — 
"Her wealth is your esteem; beware 

" Of finding fault ; her will's unnerv'd 
" By blame ; from you 'twould be despair ; 

" But praise that's only half deserv'd 
" Will all her noble nature stir 

" To make your utmost wishes true. 
"Yet think, while thus amending her, 

" Of matching her ideal too ! 
12 



178 The Departure. 

" Of perfect nuptial joy the price 

" Is manhood perfectly fulfill'd. 
" Spoilt with a palate feebly nice, 

"Or with a palsied holding spill'd, 
" The sweetest cup is lost on Sloth. 

" To keep your mistress in your wife 
" The way will be to keep your oath, 

"And honour her with arduous life. 
"The women seldom break their vow: 

" If you pay your's, your joy in her — " 
But Mrs. Fife, much flurried, now 

Whisper'd, " Miss Honor's ready, Sir." 

3- 

" Adieu, dear, dear Papa, adieu ! 

"To-morrow I'll write." "No, Pet, — " 
" I will ! 
"You know I'm very happy; and you, 
"You've Mary and Mildred with you 
still ! 



The Departure. 179 

88 Mary, you'll make Papa his tea : 

88 No green, remember. Au revoir ! 
85 Only six weeks ! How soon 'twill be ! " 

Then on us two they shut the door. 
I, disconcerted, tax'd my thought 

To keep my Bride in countenance, 
But, whilst for words I vainly sought, 

Her voice released my own from trance. 
88 Look, is not this a handsome shawl ? " 

"Yes!" "Aunt Maude gave it me." 
" How kind ! " 
88 The new wing spoils Sir John's old Hall : 

"You'll see it, if you pull that blind." 



XII. 
BY THE SEA. 



THE ACCOMPANIMENTS. 

I. 

A Demonstration. 

"NjATURE, with endless being rife, 

Parts each thing into "him" and 
"her," 
And, in the arithmetic of life, 

The smallest unit is a pair; 
And thus, oh, strange, sweet half of me, 

If I confess a loftier flame, 
If more I love high Heaven than thee, 

I more than love thee, thee I am; 
And, if the world's not built of lies, 

Nor all a cheat the Gospel tells; 



184 The Accompaniments. 

If that which from the dead shall rise 
Be I indeed, not something else, 

There's no position more secure 
In reason or in faith than this, 

That those conditions must endure, 

Which, wanting, I myself should miss. 



The Accompaniments. 185 



II. 

Tke Amaranth. 

T^ EASTS satiate ; stars distress with 
A height ; 

Friendship means well, but misses reach, 
And wearies in it's best delight, 

Vex'd with the vanities of speech; 
Too long regarded, roses even 

Afflict the mind with fond unrest; 
And to converse direct with Heaven 

Is a great trouble in the breast: 
Whate'er the up-looking soul admires, 

Whate'er the senses' banquet be, 
Fatigues at last with vain desires, 

Or sickens by satiety : 



i86 The Accompaniments, 

But truly my delight was more 

In her to whom I am bound for aye 

Yesterday than the day before 
And more to-day than yesterday. 



The Accompaniments. 187 



III. 

Maledictory. 

QHE whom the heavenly Books declare 
The Crown and Glory of the man, 
Is much too nearly dear my care 

For me with sequent thoughts to scan : 
From order and the Muse's laws 

What wonder if I fondly err ? 
The wisest man that ever was 

Became a fool for love of hei. 
In her prized interest yet I prove, 

With words that ne'er shall be forgot, 
Such perfect friends are truth and love 

That neither lives where both are not 



188 The Accompaniments. 

Praise, then, my Book where'er it comes, 
Ladies, whose innocence makes bright 

England, the land of courtly homes, 
The world's exemplar and delight ! 



The Accompaniments. 189 



IV. 

The Sentences. 

1. 
TiE not amaz'd at life. 'Tis still 

The mode of God with his elect: 
Their hopes exactly to fulfil, 

In times and ways they least expect. 

2. 

Who marry as they choose, and choose 

Not as they ought, they mock the Priest, 

And, leaving out obedience, lose 
The finest flavour of the feast. 



ig The Accompaniments. 

3- 

Till Eve was brought to Adam, he 

A solitary desert trod, 
Though in the great society 

Of Nature, Angels, and of God. 



IDYL XII. 

BY THE SEA. 

1. 
WHILE the shop-girl fitted on 

The sand-shoes, look'd where, down 
the bay, 
The sea glow'd with a shrouded sun. 

"I'm ready, Felix; will you pay?" 
That was my first expense for this 

Sweet stranger whom I call'd my Wife : 
How light the touches are that kiss 
The music from the chords of life ! 



192 By the Sea. 

2. 
Her feet, by half a mile of sea, 

In spotless sand, left shapely prints ; 
Then, from the beach, she loaded me 

With agate-stones, which turn'd out flints ; 
And, after that, we took a boat : 

She wish'd to see the ships-of-war, 
At anchor, each a lazy mote 

Dotting the brilliance, miles from shore. 

3- 
A vigorous breeze the canvas fill'd, 

Lifting us o'er the bright-ridged gulf, 
And every lurch my darling thrill'd 

With light fear smiling at itself: 
And, dashing past the Arrogant, 

Asleep upon the restless wave 
After its cruise in the Levant, 

We reach'd the Wolf; and signal gave 



By the Sea. 193 

For help to board : with caution meet, 
My bride was placed within the chair, 

The red-flag wrapp'd about her feet, 

And so swung laughing through the air. 

+ 
i; Look, Love," she said, ;i there's Frederick 

Graham, 

'' Mv Cousin, whom vou met. you know." 
And, seeing us, the brave man came, 

And made his frank and courteous bow. 
And gave my hand a sailor's shake, 

And said, *• You ask'd me to the Hurst : 
tt I never thought my luck would make 

"You and your wife my guests the first" 
And Honor, cruel, - Nor did we : 

- Have you not lately changed your 
ship ? " 
14 Yes: I'm commander, now," said he, 

With a slight quiver of the lip. 

*3 



194 By the Sea. 

We saw the vessel, shown with pride; 

Took luncheon ; I must eat his salt ! 
Parting he said, (I think my bride 

Found him unselfish to a fault,) 
His wish he saw had come to pass, 

(And so, indeed, her face express'd,) 
That that should be, whate'er it was, 

Which made his Cousin happiest. 
We left him looking from above, 

Rich bankrupt! for he could afford 
To say most proudly that his love 

Was virtue and its own reward. 
But others loved as well as he, 

(Thought I, half-anger'd,) and, if fate, 
Unfair, had only fashion'd me 
As hapless, I had been as great. 

5- 

As souls, ambitious, but low-born, 

If greatly raised by luck or wit, 



By the Sea. 195 

All pride of place will proudly scorn, 

And live as they'd been used to it, 
So we two wore our strange estate: 

Familiar, unaffected, free, 
We talk'd, until the dusk grew late, 

Of this and that; but, after tea, 
As doubtful if a lot so sweet 

As our's was our^s in very sooth, 
Like children, to promote conceit, 

We feign'd that it was not the truth; 
And she assumed the maiden coy, 

And I adored remorseless charms, 
And then we clapp'd our hands for joy, 

And ran into each other's arms. 



THE EPILOGUE. 



THE EPILOGUE. 



DID not call you ; Dear ' or ' Love,' 



T DID 
1 «I 



think, till after Frank was born." 
"That fault I cannot well remove; 

" The rhymes " — but Frank now blew his 
horn, 
And Walter bark'd, on hands and knees, 

At Baby in the mignionette, 
And all made, full cry, for the trees 
Where Felix and his wife were set. 



200 The Epilogue. 

Again disturb'd, (crickets have cares!) 
True to their annual use they rose, 

To offer thanks at Evening Prayers 
In three times sacred Sarum Close. 

2. 

They stopp'd to leave a gift of wine 

At Widow Neale's. Her daughter said: 
" She's sinking fast, Ma'am ! For a sign, 

" She cried just now, of him that's dead, 
18 s Mary, he's somewhere close above, 

" ■ Weeping and wailing his dead wife, 
" ' With forceful prayers and fatal love 

" ' Conjuring me to come to life. 
" " A spirit is terrible though dear ! 

" ' It comes by night, and sucks my 
breath, 
" ' And draws me with desire and fear.' 

"Ah, Ma'am, she'll soon be his in 
death ! " 



The Epilogue. 201 

3- 
" O love makes death a dreadful thought ! 

" Felix, at what a price we live ! " 
But present pleasures soon forgot 

The future's dread alternative; 
For, as became the festal time, 

Vaughan cheer'd his Wife with tender 
praise, 
And speeches wanting only rhyme 

To make them like his lofty lays. 
He scofF'd at mispraised girlhood : " What 

"For sweetness like the ten years' wife, 
"Whose customary love is not 

" Her passion, or her play, but life ! 
"The best things that the best believe 

"Are in her face so brightly writ, 
"The faithless, seeing her, conceive 

" Not only heaven, but hope of it. 
" With beauties so maturely fair, 

"Affecting, mild, and manifold, 



202 The Epilogue. 

"Can girlish charms no more compare 
" Than nect'rines green with nect'rines 
gold." 

4- 
Her own and manhood's modesty 

Check'd praise of him, but, as they rode, 

His hand in her's felt soft reply, 

And like rejoinder fond bestow'd. 

5- 

"Dear Wife," said he, "A fresh-lit fire 

" Sends forth to heaven great shows of 
fume, 
"And watchers far away admire; 

" But, when the flames their power 
assume, 
" The more they burn the less they show ; 

" The clouds no longer smirch the sky ; 
"And then the flames intensest glow 

" When far-off watchers think they die. 



The Epilogue. 203 

' ; The fames of early love my verse 

,; Hath figured, but to paint the flame 
4i Might merit the Promethean curse, 

••And is a task unknown to fame.' 5 — 
M The task you undertook was such : 

•• Bo. Dear, go on ! " and he (who cried, 
u 4 1 could not love thee, Muse, so much 

" ; Loved I not Honor more ! ") complied. 
Then, as they talk'd of olden song, 

•• How strange,"' said he, u 'twould seem 
to meet, 
4i When walking without thought along 

-A Florence or a Lisbon street, 
' ; That Laura or that Catherine, who. 

•• In the remote, romantic years, 
M From Petrarch or Camoens drew 

- Their verse and their immortal tears ! " 
But here their converse had it's end ; 

For. crossing the Cathedral Lawn, 



204 The Epilogue. 

There came an ancient college-friend, 
Who, introduced to Mrs. Vaughan, 

Lifted his hat, and bow'd, and smiled, 
And fill'd her handsome face with joy, 

By patting on the cheek her child, 

With, " Is he your's, this noble boy ? " 



END OF THE ESPOUSALS. 



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